Brothers Keeper
by Neuronerd
Summary: Property Brothers Drew and Jonathan have a strange twin encounter with much unsaid between them, but a full understanding of the other.
1. Drew's View

**A/N: I have been absent for quite some time and very busy, but I was inspired to write a short little ditty for my latest obsession, The Property Brothers. Double the fun! **

**Drew's View**

I heard the door to the office gently swish, but I didn't feel the need to look up from my pile of paperwork to see who had come calling. A lifetime of experience with the sound of that particular pattern of footfalls told me it was my doppelganger, Jonathan. Perhaps imperceptible to others, what gave me pause was the fact that his steps were a fraction of a second slower than usual, meaning there was a problem. Trying to read his general demeanor would have been an exercise in futility because no matter what was going on he, at least externally, always remained calm. Frustrated homeowners, late inspectors, out of stock materials, it didn't matter- it never seemed to rattle him much. But even he had his tells and we had been around one another long enough for me to know this was serious. I quickly scribbled my signature on the final bill of sale for our latest property and sighed to myself, preparing for the worst. Jonathan was just as much a perfectionist as me and had demonstrated grace under pressure at many a job site, so if he felt the need to personally come to the office and talk to me it was worrisome to say the least and I almost didn't have the courage to look up from the sea of financial legalese that suddenly seemed much safer territory. And when I did, I wished I hadn't.

It's hard to describe to someone who is not an identical twin what it's like looking at your own face outside of the context of a mirror. It's at times surreal, like an out of body experience essentially watching yourself wearing clothes you didn't put on that day. Of course he and I are entirely different people despite looking alike, and to us the difference is night and day, but every once in a while even I feel a bit disoriented if I'm not paying close attention. Even so, disorientation can't even come close to what I felt when I watched him slowly lower himself in the beige minimalist chair opposite my desk.

Jonathan has always prided himself on being four minutes older as if that somehow equated to 40 years of additional wisdom. Even more irritating is the fact, as he is quick to tell anyone and everyone, that I was something of a "surprise" as if he were ordained to occupy the womb solo and I was some kind of interloper. Rather than revel in the miracle that our hearts were beating in perfect unison the whole time or that by an anomaly of nature we both began life as a single entity, he chose to focus on the fact that he happened to be closest to the exit as though he planned it and that somehow made him the chosen one. We certainly were competitive growing up and to some degree still are. There are times I just want to karate chop him in the throat, but at the end of the day I have always admired his ability to be everything to everyone even when it seemed more trouble than it was worth.

I give him a lot of grief for being emotionally sensitive and sometimes tearing up along with clients when I do what has to be done and crush their dreams by dropping the true price of what a move-in ready home will cost. I feel bad for them as well, but I'm not going to stand there and cry about it because someone has to be the bad guy and voice of reason. I rib him at every opportunity for his plaid fetish, having two toy dogs rather than something a bit more stereotypical of a contractor like a Rottweiler, and for his ability to totally pimp out a pink princess palace for little girls or get misty eyed when designing a nursery for clients. He was never one to turn his back on anyone no matter how much stress a homeowner may heap on him with add-ons or how angry they may get at him for things completely beyond his control like weather slowing the progress of the reno. He has on several occasions worked round the clock to get a job done on time or even early when the homeowners faced hardship despite already putting in long days and being dead on his feet. I am man enough to admit that I simply wouldn't do it- but not to him, of course.

And it is knowing him better than anyone else that made looking at him so hard. There are times when I look at him and it's like a vision of myself if I smoked weed in college with the long hair and laid back attitude. I know for a fact he's way smarter than that, but at that moment I swore he was too stupid for his own good. As long as we have been in business together I knew this day would come, and although I shouldn't have been surprised, I still found myself shocked, speechless, and slightly anxious about what could have been.

Sometimes people ask us if we have that weird twin connection thing as if we share a brain between us. I guess in a way we sort of do in that I find it pretty easy to guess what he's thinking and even though we have different perspectives and interests, we tend to think along the same lines on the things that really matter in life: faith in humanity, a sense of responsibility to others, and above all family. He can tease me for being his airheaded, tool challenged, fashonista "little" brother all he likes, but when the chips obviously fell, I was the one he came to and it made me feel good. I wondered if other siblings or even couples ever felt it the way we did. It wasn't anything we ever discussed or really thought about, it had always just been there. It was at times aggravating but it was comforting too just knowing that there was at least one other person in the world who just somehow got you without really trying.

He didn't need to explain himself although there was no doubt a story behind it, and by the looks of it, quite a good one. I was sure he would tell me eventually, but I got the sense he really didn't want to rehash the experience and that was fine by me. I tried to steady my voice as much as I could so I didn't sound as vulnerable as I felt. "You ok?" I asked with a small, hopeful smile.

He shifted in his chair and to my relief, gave me his half-cocked grin. "I suppose." He sighed.

I knew he was sort of lying by the way he looked down as he said it, but I didn't call him on it and instead reshuffled my mountain of paperwork and straightened the items on my desk as was my habit. He often made fun of me for being so neat, but everything had its place and it would bother me if I left it in disarray. "Ok then," I summed cheerily, "let's call it a day. We can stop for sushi on the way home." If anything would make him feel better, it would be sushi. It was hard to watch him struggle to his feet and I casually wrapped my arm around his shoulder to steady him as we walked to the door. "The Canucks are on tonight." I left it for him to read between the lines. If the roles were reversed maybe he would have been a bit more dramatic about the whole thing, but that just wasn't my style. I didn't quite know what I was in for, but I knew it would likely be a long night for me which didn't matter given the circumstances. I have and always would be there for my brother no matter what.


	2. Jonathan's Take

**Jonathan's Take**

It had been the longest night I can remember in quite a while, and believe me, there has been many. I'm not only four minutes older than Drew, but thanks to my work ethic I look four years older. While I'm up at all hours swinging a hammer or installing tile, he's getting his precious beauty sleep. I'm sure our choice of facial hair style doesn't help either. While he is clean shaven and looks like a 12 year old boy sometimes with that goofy grin, I look like I haven't shaved in three days and just came off a bender. I get it, he has to look professional while trying his best to convince skeptical people a rundown house full of awful wallpaper and sagging ceilings is the way to go all after just playing Grinch by showing them a fabulous house he knows they can't afford. I'm surprised no one has kicked his ass for it yet. But at the moment, that's exactly how I felt.

In the many years I have been doing construction I have been very careful to abide by all rules and regulations no matter how inane. Rules are there for a reason and safety always comes first- that has always been my credo. I always wear all the appropriate protective gear when doing a demo and I never rush a job if it means cutting corners. That beautiful open-concept floor plan won't be so beautiful if one of the guys on my crew got crushed by the 300lb beam that's holding the entire upper floor in place. Yet sometimes no matter how carefully you plan, things happen and I wasn't sure how Drew would react. He had rules too, but to me they made no sense. Why his pen had to be exactly perpendicular to his cellphone and always to his left was well beyond me, but I would bet my last dollar that's what I would find when I got to the office- assuming he wasn't out getting some god-awful smoothie or doing yoga. I would rather eat grout than some of the stuff he claimed was healthy.

It wasn't like Drew was my boss or anything, but as a business partner I felt he had a right to know what happened. I could have just called him, but I know him well enough to avoid that mess. Drew and I couldn't be more different for having the same genetic make-up and this whole fiasco was a prime example. I often joke with him that he's a robot because he doesn't show emotion, but that couldn't be further from the truth. True, he's not one to get hysterical or cry, but under that disarming smile is a machine of absolute efficiency. People are often surprised by his playfulness and he really does play as hard as he works, but when it gets down to brass tacks he gets his game face on and it can be quite intimidating. I've seen that face many times, thankfully most often when he's driving a hard deal for clients, although he seems to feel he has to one-up me on as much as he can no matter how small. No challenge is beneath him which is why I have to constantly remind him of his ineptitude on a construction site. It's one of the few things that I can clearly claim as mine because I honestly don't think he knows the difference between a Philips and flat screwdriver.

I tried to keep my composure as best I could when I sat down in that stupid modern style chair he loved. It completely fit in with the design of his office which reflected his personality- direct and efficient with just a small punch of color for warmth- but it was probably the most uncomfortable thing I ever sat in. It was pretty typical of him not to look up when I came in and he looked pretty busy, but I instantly knew he was anxious. To the average person it may have looked like he was concentrating on his paperwork, but I knew better. While he was not one for hysterics, he essentially had three modes: fun, all business, and anxious. He was a math major in college and when he doesn't have all the data in any given situation, it makes him nervous and his eye twitches. As if I didn't already know it, when he finally did look up it was plain as day on his face.

I couldn't blame him, I probably looked like absolute hell and certainly felt like it. He's used to seeing me covered in sweat and drywall dust, but not cuts, scrapes, and bruises like I was thrown out the back of a truck going 50mph on the highway. Bad as it must have looked, it really could have been worse. I have seen some pretty shoddy DIY projects in homes I renovated, but what happened last night was a real piece of work that could have killed someone.

I was working with a small crew through the night finishing a demo because we got a late start that morning and I already have an incredibly tight timeline to get these things done. I found the usual suspects of knob and tube electrical, a small leak around a window that thankfully didn't seem too catastrophic, a mouse skeleton, and something I never like to see but invariably do in older homes, potential asbestos. I left that area undisturbed until it could be tested and resolved to take out the floor to ceiling brick fireplace before hitting the sack for a few hours. The homeowners were adamant they hated the old brick and wanted it all taken out no matter the cost. I couldn't disagree, it really was hideous but I could have saved them a ton of money by refacing it with slate tile even though it looked like the masonry was crumbling and would have to be fixed.

I gripped the handle of my heaviest sledge hammer and sized up the task. It was going to take a lot of energy and time to bust all that brick and I briefly considered dynamite. At the very least, I would sleep well for the few hours before I had to get up and start another day. The very first swing I took leveled the entire thing and it felt like a literal ton of bricks fell on me. I don't remember getting knocked out, although my crew said I did. Thankfully they were there to unearth me and made me go to the hospital even though I didn't think it was necessary. Come to find out, whoever installed the brick didn't use mesh backing so there was nothing for the mortar to adhere to. Essentially, the bricks were just stacked in a 12 foot pile loosely held together by crumbling adhesive.

I spent the night in the emergency room mostly waiting to be seen and lucky for me it seemed the worst that came of it was a mild concussion and general soreness from being pummeled. However, the discharge nurse told me I couldn't go back to work for a few days which was a bit of a problem and the reason I came to see Drew. In all my time on the job, I rarely missed work and never so many days in a row. But it was pretty clear to me he wasn't interested in that as he seemed to falter just a bit before asking "Are you ok?" He could play it cool all he wanted, but I knew exactly what he was thinking and liability aside, he was more worried about the here and now.

I had to look away because I was never a great liar, but I wasn't about to admit I felt like I'd been hit by a truck and angry that I was so tired last night I slipped up and didn't check it out like I should have. "I suppose" was the best half-truth I could come up with and wiggled in the uncomfortable chair. I wasn't sure he would buy it because the competitive side of him could smell weakness like a shark smells blood in the water a mile away, but he mumbled something about sushi and straightened up his desk to go home for the day even though it was only a little after 11:00. He placed his pen where he always did and I was suddenly overcome with an urge to reach out and turn it just slightly to see what would happen, but in the end I just wanted to go home and go to bed.

It took more effort than it should have to get up from that damned chair and he put his arm around me when I stumbled a half a step, which was a little embarrassing. I was so tired and sore I couldn't even walk straight. "The Canucks are on tonight." He said in that tone he used when he wanted to say more than he actually did. I knew Drew was a sports guy, but his thing was basketball and he only casually followed hockey because I did. I didn't know if that meant he was going to come over to my house or he was taking me to his, but in any event I knew I wouldn't be alone.


End file.
